


Fun sized 2020

by lovemuppet



Series: 2020 Drabbles [5]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Baking, Boats, Canon Compliant, Drinking, Fishing, Halloween, M/M, Teachers, the last one's explicit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-29
Updated: 2020-12-29
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:49:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28397202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovemuppet/pseuds/lovemuppet
Summary: This is a collection of 100 word (or more) destiel prompt fills.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Series: 2020 Drabbles [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2079648
Kudos: 5





	Fun sized 2020

**"Mask" (Halloween/slasher) T**   
Dean was trapped against his bedroom door. Shit shit shit! The man in the mask drew a knife and held it out so Dean could see. “Please, no!” A shout ripped through him as the man lunged forward. The knife retracted inside itself with a sweet scrape of plastic. Dean laughed, heart-pounding away gayly in his ears. The figure stabbed him a few more times chuckling. “alright, I can see the appeal.” The mask lifted and Cas winked at him. Then he frowned. “The door isn’t really jammed right?” “Hell no. Get in here killer.”

**"I got a nautical themed pashmina afghan" T (Gay cruises, Jealous!Dean, shipper sam)**

Sam clutched his stomach. He couldn’t breathe.

“Not a word,” Dean warned. Castiel was practically surrounded by every hot twink and bear from Toledo to Tuscany. The flock had descended almost as soon as Cas had shirked his coat. “I would never have accepted that prize for that hot dog eating contest if I would have known I’d be playing dick goalie for Cas the whole time,” Dean growled scrubbing his face.

Sam whimpered in an effort not to giggle and wiped away tears. “Yeah, I don’t know how you didn’t see that coming.” Dean knocked back his tequila shot aggressively. “You know, you don’t have to play a goalie,” Sam commented casually, sipping on his Mai Tai. “You can take a more offensive position.” A particularly loud guffaw sounded from the middle of the newly formed Cas Fanclub. “You’re a terrible goalie. I can’t even see Cas anymore in that mess of muscle and tanning oil.“ Dean saw that he was right and stood slowly and deliberately. "Go show ‘em who’s boss, Dean.”

Dean strutted in all of his macho, bow-legged, short-clad glory over to Cas who was, to his surprise, smoking a cigar. It was a small token from one of his admirers. Cas smiled brightly when he caught sight of him. “Dean!” Some of the men around them cooed, most started to disperse muttering something about how the good ones were always taken. “This was a good prize, wasn’t it? Almost worth the stomach ache?”

Dean huffed. Sitting down on Cas’s deck chair. “yeah. well. I’m glad you’re having fun Cas.” 

**"Spell work" G (Canon!verse)**

Dean closed his old flip phone. He looked up from his phone briefly before dipping his head back down to answer a text from Sam. “I’m going on a beer run. Cas, you commin?”

“Can I go?” Jack asked hopefully.

“Take Jack.” Castiel flipped the page in his book and didn’t look up. “I’m feeling a bit tired today.”

Dean shot the Angel a worried glance. “Yeah, okay buddy. Rest up. Let’s go, Jack.”

Castiel waited until he heard the Large metal door of the bunker slam closed before standing and walking towards the pantry. He had felt bad for the deception, but it was necessary. Castiel had waited patiently for a chance to be alone to try this spell. If it worked, it would be the crowning accomplishment in his life. It had taken him a few weeks to discreetly gather the ingredients and he had been anxious yesterday when he brought home the bag of fresh cherries that they might spoil before he had an opportunity to use them.

He stretched the page he had found folded up in a spellbook in the bunker and lined his ingredients up on the prep table: the cherries, sugar (two types, course and granulated), cornstarch, lemon juice, vanilla extract, almond extract (this had taken Castiel the longest to acquire), unsalted butter (he hadn’t known to expect butter to be salted in the first place, the distinction was helpful), and eggs.

He was attempting to make Mrs. McCoy's Man Catching Cherry Pie. If this spell was a dud, Castiel would be greatly disappointed.

**"weight" G (canon!verse)**

Dean tied the fishing weight to the line. “I’m telling you, this is a good time.” 

Castiel held his pole and eyed the river skeptically. He could see the fish. They weren’t very large and seemed content to float around aimlessly... “What happens if we don’t catch anything?” 

Dean fastened a hook to the bottom of his line and then threaded an earthworm with a sympathetic wince. “Doesn’t matter to me. I’m not a big fish guy anyway.” 

Castiel frowned, bemused. “What’s the point then?”

“To get a couple hour’s peace and quiet,” Dean said pointedly. 

“Together?”

“Yeah, Cas. Together.”

**"Itch" M (canon!verse)**

Dean wondered about Castiel from time to time.  
He wondered about the coat Cas was practically swimming in and why he always wore a suit. _Did heaven not have a casual Friday?_  
He wondered if heaven had issued a preference: boxers or briefs?  
He had wondered if Cas’s skin was warm.  
Had wondered what it would take to find out for himself.   
He had wondered what it would be like to fuck Cas. |  
To make love to him.  
Wondered if it would itch to have Cas’s face pressed against him all night.  
He wondered and then drank those thoughts away.

**"Loose" T (Teacher AU)**

Principal Castiel Novak was auditing Dean Winchester's 3rd period English class.

The guy burned holes in you with all that staring. He made Dean want to be a reprobate again. Castiel inspired after-school fantasies involving desks and rulers and- Jesus, now was _not_ the time. What the hell was wrong with him today?

A hand shot up from the corner of the room where “the doodlers” congregated. "Um! Mr. Winchester?"

"Huh?"

"I think you meant to write 'Born to Lose'. you have too many o's? Now it says...uh-"

"-Born _too loose_." Castiel rumbled. There was a smile in his eyes.

**"That Good Temper" G (canon!verse)**

Dean double checked the manual in front of him and then tapped two keys on the bunker’s antique piano, frowning.

“They’re still off.”

“Yeah, I got that Cas. I haven’t started tuning the piano yet.” Cas handed Dean his beer with a quizzical frown. Dean tapped the place where he had been reading. “The book says I’ve got to ‘temper the strings’ first.”

Dean hit the keys again and then nodded his head. “Do you even know what you’re doing?”

“Well, I have a manual so that’s a start. And now I have you. What else could I possibly need?”

**"Anointed" E (Sex)**

“Ha, Ha, Hah.” Dean panted into his pillow. He was prostrate on his bed, smearing pre-cum on oatmeal-colored sheets. Ancient words, honeyed and reverent, reverberated off the concrete walls. Dean only caught snippets of the Enochian. One word that sounded a lot like the word for “music” or “sing”. He heard the pop of plastic behind him and choked on a moan. The familiar sound of the lube bottle opening made his dick twitch in Pavlovian response. Warm oil hit his lower back. Sure, careful hands worked the oil into his skin, anointing his well-loved cleft reverently and possessively.


End file.
